There Is One
by RomanticFictionFreak
Summary: Among the infinite doors, there is one—a reality of constants, and very important variables. A Booker and a universe left untouched. A different world that can maybe provide Elizabeth with a sense of closure, and put to ease her troubled reflections of her own world. (An Epilogue to Infinite, with a happier ending)
1. Chapter 1: A Reality

**I highly encourage you to listen to "Baptism" by Gary Schyman from the Bioshock Infinite soundtrack before you read. It'll get you in the right atmosphere :)**

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Chapter 1: A Reality

Bubbles burst through the shallow level of the river. Booker's eyes, blank and still, beneath the surface. I kept my hands pressed down, afraid of doing anything else.

I watched my father drown.

Slowly the other realities began to disappear. One by one, the Elizabeth's faded out of this dimension, to have never existed at all. Even when the doors were opened to me, when I figured out the truth, it still hadn't settled in. The truth was the truth. And if I were to set things right, I couldn't let my personal attachments interfere. But as I grew more alone, Booker's eyes stagnantly staring at me, I could no longer ignore the sorrow that had been stored away.

I felt a tear slide down. There was no fear as I saw the last Elizabeth disappear. I was ready. Allowing myself to hope. Hope that the realities change. Hope that maybe in a farther world, there was a Booker and an Anna who made all the right choices. Hope…

But nothing happened.

My eyes opened. I was still in the river, the sun now a crescent of light over the valley, the door still waiting for me on the low hill. Something in me caused me to stand up, the bottom of my dress darkened by the water.

"I…I don't understand…" I said aloud.

"Quite odd."

I whirled around. The Lutece twins were standing side by side— as always— behind me. Since it was Rosalind who spoke, Robert finished. "We thought you'd have figured it out by now."

There was nothing I could do but stare back, my brain being racked through to uncover some sort of explanation. And the omniscient tone of the twins didn't help matters.

"I…I don't—" Stuttering, I forced myself to stop. I sucked in a breath and tried again. "Why didn't I disappear like the others?"

"Constants."

"And variables."

The crease between my brows deepened. Their answer couldn't have been vaguer.

"Constants are specific," said Rosalind.

"However,"

"Like us,"

"You exist outside of the realities," Robert ended, tapping knowingly to his right little finger.

I glanced down to the silver thimble—a symbol for my deformity.

For _all_ our deformities.

"But the other Elizabeth's—" I began to argue.

"Are not constant," Rosalind answered.

"They are the different outcomes of different realities," Robert explained.

"Variables."

Regardless, my head was shaking back and forth slightly, as if the motion would retrieve my thoughts in proper order. "I changed the course. I prevented everything from happening from both sides." Everything was still so tangled together, the knot making my head pound and making it unable to form a coherent conclusion. Everything but one, "I shouldn't even exist."

Rosalind inclined her head toward me. "By changing the course—"

"You've created a million worlds to take its place."

"Making the world you knew—"

"—Columbia in its entirety, your numerous involvements—"

"To have never existed at all." Rosalind's voice finished lightly.

More pieces formed, but none of it seemed to explain why _I_ out of all the Elizabeth's was so special. And I asked them, "Why?"

Robert waved a hand at me. "You made the change."

"And therefore made a constant."

"One must exist." Robert practically shrugged. (I nearly envied how well they could handle the information. All the books in my library couldn't have prepared me for this).

Rosalind frowned, turning to her replica. "Well, technically speaking, there _are_ no Elizabeth's."

Another truth. It was as though a great wind dispersed the fog that clouded around it in my head. No Elizabeth's. _Only Anna's_….

"But _I_ do…" My voice sounded between a statement and question. Nothing was making complete sense.

"We—" Robert started.

"And you specifically—"

"—are unaffected"

My brow raised.

Rosalind noticed and continued. "Because you live within the tears—"

"You exist."

"But the life you know,"

"Did not."

"Does not."

"Will not," they said in unison.

The entire thing was making my head spin. All this information cramped together, making it difficult to sort through. But a part of me wanted to accept the twins' logic.

I took a deep breath, accepting this. And in doing so, the burden seemed to lift slightly. "Now what?" I asked them.

The Lutece's weren't exactly my friends. But in a way, we were in the same situation. They were the only ones who could relate, who knew my story. Maybe even better than I did.

"You continue forward."

"Or backward," Robert countered.

"Or _forward_."

He shrugged. "However way you wish."

"Anywhere?" The word itself seemed to so small in comparison to what it implied.

"Any _when_," Rosalind added.

"There are infinite possibilities."

"Hm," Rosalind's head tilted. "If only you had a way to access them all."

All. All the doors. Infinite and open to me. Despite my wondrous thought track, Rosalind's comment made me smirk. Booker always disliked their cryptic sarcasm—

"And what of Booker?" I asked suddenly, my focus taking a sharp turn as pieces of a theory clicked together. "He's a constant, isn't he?"

"Dewitt?" For once, Rosalind looked taken aback.

The other Lutece recovered faster. "I would suppose so…"

"No. He can't. He _isn't_." Rosalind argued.

"Is."

"The Booker's you took back several times," I interrupted, "to rescue me. They weren't the only ones." My eyes fell, realizing exactly what this meant. "There are others…" The Lutece's waited for me to finish my thought. "I changed _both_. I got rid of Comstack. Which means Booker…"

Robert cut in. "The one you know doesn't exist."

"Never has," Rosalind said.

"But one still does…" I retorted.

Doors flashed through my head, all different yet some similar. And there— Somewhere among the them, hidden by millions of others—

I didn't even check to see if the Lutece's were still there, my feet took off in a sprint. The skirt of my dress, still soaked from kneeling, weighed down my every step, but I barely paid mind to it. As the door opened to the Sea, I left this world behind me.

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**Goodness it took me **_**days**_** to make sense of that ending. But it was so worth it! Bioshock Infinite was amazing! Everything about it was so beautiful— the gameplay, the setting, the characters, the plot! Anyway, I really wanted to add this… extra epilogue. So I tried to fit it in as best I could with the actual facts of the game's ending. So there's a second chapter to this. But it's midterm season so… not sure when it'll be posted ^_^  
But anyway, I truly hope you enjoyed reading. If some parts confused you feel free to ask, and if you simply liked it, feel free to review!  
Thanks!**

**Are you going to just sit there?**

**As opposed to what? Standing?**

**Not standing, _Reviewing_!**

**Reviewing? I hadn't planned on it.**

**So you expect me to wait in vain for one?**

**No. But I do expect you to write another chapter.**

**And why is that?**

**Making this fanfiction was your idea.**

**My idea?**

**I made it very clear that I don't believe in the exercise.**

**Reviewing?**

**No. I imagine that's wonderful exercise for the brain.**

**Then what?**

**The entire commitment for the story.**

(Excuse me, what are you guys talking about?)

**One does not undertake a writing project _knowing_ one won't receive good criticism.**

**One does not undertake a writing project knowing one _may_ receive good criticism.**

**Can we just get back to writing?**

**I reckon you should. Otherwise you'll never finish this story...**


	2. Chapter 2: A Door

Chapter 2: A Door

My heart raced as I flew through the Sea. Though whether from excitement or nerves, I couldn't tell. In my mind, I saw the door. The one that held so many differences, so much of what I wanted.

Finally, there it was, looming just beyond a newly formed dock, shadowed as the lighthouse passed over it.

My fingers found the door handle, and I pulled, the tear splitting open, revealing to me the world it held.

The bright light contrasted against the darkness of the Sea of Doors, making me wince. But as my eyes adjusted, a road came into view. Straight, bordered with buildings.

The city's name came to my head before I even went through the tear. _New York._

It was as bustling as my books described. But the particular neighborhood I was in was more open to the afternoon sunlight. Trees and shorter buildings lined the sidewalk instead of skyscrapers.

My eyes scanned the area, trying to figure out why the tear would open here.

And then I found him.

Standing on the sidewalk, facing a building. Slightly younger than I had known him. Even only seeing his profile, I knew him immediately. There were no holsters on his back, his hands didn't glow with the newest vigor. Though still fit, there were no fresh wounds on his face. And his posture was so relaxed it was as though he was an entirely different man.

_He is_. I pushed the thought away. My heart still swollen with so my rapture that I could barely think of anything else. Booker Dewitt was still in existence. A different version in a completely separate world, but alive nonetheless.

I had the sudden urge to touch him, to _assure_ myself he was real. Almost against my will, my hand reached out. But I hesitated. My fingers twitched with impatience and the familiar ache that accompanies hope. Such a fragile thing. But it powered my heart.

The struggled lasted for several seconds, my mind fighting against the urge. What good would I do? If I showed myself to Booker, what would that change? Would it help? Could I prevent something?

All at once the other implication of my question crashed into me. _What could I change?_ The dangers of my interference could alter more than the bad choices, but also the good ones. The light of this world could darken. The horror of that truth brought such a strong fear I stumbled back as if it shoved me.

As I did, I was immediately hit back. Though this time it was an actual physical force. The impact was strong enough to throw me on my knees and involuntarily cry out.

"Hey! Watch it!" A messenger yelled as his bike sped past me.

My skirt made it difficult to stand upright immediately, but a hand held out to help me up.

"Miss? Are you alright?"

Taking the hand before I saw the man's face, I got to my feet. "Yes. Yes I'm fine, Booker."

Looking up to meet his eyes, I instantly regretted my words. They didn't feel like a mistake, but no matter my distress, they were. The moment felt so nonchalant, his reaction to my safety so familiar, that my previous fear had dissipated. And I let myself believe he was the Booker of my reality.

Booker's confused expression only shattered this.

We stared for a second longer than necessary, I too wary to speak. But as he took more notice of me, his perplexity deepened. The questions taking solidity in his head: _Have we met before?_

So I quickly offered an alternative answer. "Your badge," I offered, waving my hand to the side of his belt.

He glanced down reflexively. His mystification dimmed, though not entirely. I could tell his mind was still trying to find a way to explain my familiarity. But as he looked back up, I lost my breath. The renewed satisfaction of him alive enhanced. It was impossible not to make connections between the Booker I knew. This one's eyes, still a beautiful shade of green, looked brighter almost. Perhaps because there was no great regret to shadow them.

"Do we know each other?" he asked me, voice gruff like I recalled.

I tensed, waiting for his nose to bleed as other memories would fill his head. But there were no memories to pass on. The only ones left remained in my head.

The real answer threatened to spill out of my mouth. The only thing caging it was the fear I felt earlier, creeping back in. So my mouth set itself, and I lied.

"No."

Booker's eyes turned skeptic. His casual alertness taking over as he surveyed this strange woman. He was an intelligent man. Easily detecting the lie and was quick to try untangling it. Again I offered an alternative. "Are you waiting for someone?" I asked pleasantly enough.

Booker's look lingered, but he glanced at the small building he was facing earlier. Stealing a look myself, I realized it was a small school.

"Yeah," he replied. "Just waiting for my daughter. She should be getting out of school soon."

The word struck me. "Your daughter," I breathed. It felt so…otherworldly to say.

"Yeah."

I could hear the dreaminess in my tone, still awestruck, as the words came out without my will. "What's her name?"

"Anna."

My eyes pricked, but I blinked them away. "That's a beautiful name."

Booker wasn't looking at me anymore, his eyes down as he seemed to speak from deep in his thoughts. "After her mother."

My attention spiked. My mother? I knew little of her, my real mother. Other than that she died giving birth. Named after her? That I didn't know. Booker had named his daughter after his wife. What was she like? How did they meet? What would she have been like if she raised me?

"What about you? What's your name?"

I blinked, still overwhelmed. Booker was looking at me now and I could only stare back as I considered the question. Though he probably asked as common etiquette, I could see the dire curiosity behind his smooth expression. The intention to uncover who I was. A smile formed, small and sad, when I thought about the uselessness of his effort to identify someone he couldn't possibly know.

"It doesn't matter," I told him, my voice still soft.

That strange look returned. The one I knew too well— Booker's mouth pulled down, troubled eyes. A shrill bell tore through the silence. Our focus interrupted as the school signaled the end of its day. Children began pouring out, scattering as they found their parents.

I took the moment to study him.

Book always had a gruff expression, formed from years of fighting and deception. Though they were times when he would look at me gently, a smile was rare. As his mind drifted off, his gaze returning to the school house, the corner of his mouth hitched.

Booker Dewitt was grinning in a way I had never seen before. Just like that I realized how different his life was. How much Anna played a role in the man he could become. This Booker was not completely free. I could see it in his eyes. He was still the man who carried with him the demons of Wounded Knee, of Peking, the Pinkertons. But he was lighter. And it showed in the way he awaited his daughter to rush through the crowd.

I knew I couldn't stay. I had already interfered enough. I wasn't sure what would happen if Anna met me, and I didn't want to.

But the need to do something more kept me still. Yet the press for time made my thoughts struggle against each other, suffocating me.

"Booker—"

He pulled out of the trance and looked at me expectantly.

But I was caught in a hesitation, words lost in my head. There was so much I could say, so much I wanted to tell him. But none of it would be enough. "Don't—" My eyes searched his, as if trying to find my Booker and hold on to him. The words settled like leaves after a storm and I let out a breath. "Just… take care of her," I told him. "Don't ever let her go."

Booker's expression regarded me carefully, no doubt put off by my cryptic advice and the plea that was burning through my eyes. There was something deeper, too, not really an _understanding_— that would be impossible— but there was…a trust. As if he accepted that I _knew_ certain things, and he just decided to trust me.

After a moment he nodded, the intensity in our gaze too strong for words.

Booker suddenly perked, his head turning to what had alerted him. Even without seeing his eyes, I knew they had somehow found Anna, distinguished her among the crowd of other children.

At Booker's distraction, I managed to slip through the tear. I couldn't help myself, though, and kept it open. It wasn't strong enough to be seen in their world, but enough to see through.

The vision was faded and static in comparison, but it began to clear. And I watched.

A little girl ran up to Booker. His grin broke out into a full smile (that nearly broke my heart) as he bent down to lift her up. Her dark brown hair was loose past her shoulders, the untamed waves framing her face. Her soft features and gleeful smile illuminated the bright blue of her eyes.

_Anna_.

It was strange. To see myself, or a younger form of myself, in a different world. Even stranger when I recognized her voice.

"Daddy!"

"Hey, sweetie," Booker greeted her. He turned slightly, Anna in arms, to where I had once stood. "Miss, this is—"

He cut off when he realized I was no longer there. His eyes glanced around for me.

"Who are you talking to, Daddy?" Anna asked him.

Booker gave a final glance. "I…I don't know." He looked back at his daughter.

They talked about something else, Anna excited to do something fun now that she was out of school.

My hands shut the door, unable to watch any more. Truthfully, I had seen enough, if not, then more than I should.

As I thought of Anna, I thought I would feel something.

I should feel bitter. Booker Dewitt sold me. Gave me away to clear his conscience. To a stranger. Treated me like nothing more than merchandise.

But there was no point denying the sorrow I felt about him. No matter what he'd done... The Booker I knew was a good man. He protected me, cared for me, regretted giving me away. A man I would be proud to call my father.

In the end, after _everything _we've been through, he faced his mistakes and made his last choice the right one. He was my friend. After all, how could I blame him for something he hadn't done?

The pang of longing returned. Did I forgive him? That answer was an entire conflict on its own, and I chose to push it away. But I missed him. Of all things, it only made me feel more grateful for this one reality.

It was enough to know Booker was alive. It was enough to know he had Anna. And they were both happy. It was enough to know there was a reality that was moving on without me, a better one, with better possibilities.

I closed my eyes against the faint glow that signified the millions of doors and let myself hope. Hope beyond anything that there was no debt big enough to make Booker give up his last form of redemption.

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**Yeah, who am I kidding, I'm blowing off studying for exams. *shrugs helplessly***  
**I would also like to point out that the reason why Booker may find Elizabeth familiar, even though there's no living version of him that knows her, is because she looks like Anna. – just had to clarify that in case people start getting nit-picky.**

**So this is the end. If you guys didn't see it, there was a clip at the end of the credits showing a very-much alive Booker calling out for Anna. So… I don't know. I just felt a connection was necessary! I am currently obsessed with Bioshock right now, so I may have a few more other stories. No guarantee on them getting published though, sorry. But I'll try! Until then… back to studying…**

**Thanks for reading! Tell me what you thought!**


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